


Familiarization of Liberty

by SapphireQuill



Series: Coming Home [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-20
Updated: 2009-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireQuill/pseuds/SapphireQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy was forced to leave his family, the magical world... everything that mattered to him. This is the story of how he learned to adapt to a strange, new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything; it's the property of JKR, Raincoast, RTD, Cowlip, Showtime, _et al_.
> 
> Warnings for this story: slash, of course, language, adult themes.
> 
>  _HP_ \- this should be canon-compliant until early in _HBP_ , except that Lucius fought in the battle at the Department of Mysteries but escaped being captured.
> 
>  _QaF_ (US) - this story begins just before Season Two, Episode Three, meaning there are MAJOR, MAJOR (I can not express how MAJOR) spoilers for the end of Season One. Please, please, if you haven't seen the show to that point, go and watch it – Showcase (.ca) has the episodes online – or read the televisionwithoutpity (.com) recaps for season one and two. If you don't want to do the whole thing, email me, and I can send you character bios and specific scenes (but these are beautiful, beautiful men who are very, very talented actors, and I recommend watching as much as you can).
> 
> Home is not where you live but where they understand you.  
> ~Christian Morgenstern
> 
> Originally posted: 20 Jan 09 (Unbeta'd)

_Familiarization of Liberty_

Chapter One

He knew he had to leave. While it had been a shockingly easy decision to make, it was proving to be extraordinarily difficult to put into practice. He didn't know where he was going, how he would be getting there, or how he'd manage to escape capture.

 _But I've taken the first step_ , Draco Malfoy thought, putting the last of his things in his satchel. Looking around the room at all that he would be leaving, all that he would likely never see again, he regretfully amended the thought: _the last of the things that would fit, anyway_.

But it was worth it. He'd finally met Voldemort for the first time, and it had been terrifying. Not because the Dark Lord looked like something out of a nightmare (though he did) nor because he was undeniably insane (though he was) but because he had demanded the impossible and had tortured Draco when he'd hesitated. That might not have been enough, on its own, but Lucius had not only apologized for his son's disappointing behaviour, he'd offered to Crucio him for it. And had done. To his _heir_. Given what they'd ordered him to do, Draco knew that chances of his success were remote, and it had been made very clear that there would be no quarter given if he were to be unsuccessful.

Which, of course he would be. He was not stupid enough to refuse the task or to point out that the plan was ludicrous. He was not foolish enough to attempt impossible. He was not smart enough – though it galled him to admit it – to think of a workable alternative that would accomplish the same end. He was, however, Slytherin enough to want to survive, so he'd play to the stereotype and run, because that's what he needed to do. With an affirming nod, he closed the satchel, and turning to leave his childhood home for the last time, he came face to face with the first of his obstacles: his mother was standing in the doorway of his room.

Draco tried very hard not to panic, not to flinch as though he were doing something wrong, and looked at her inquiringly. She stood there, staring silently at him for several moments before saying, "You're certainly not my little boy anymore. You're growing so quickly. Becoming such a gentleman."

Draco nearly rolled his eyes. Such a typically vain and shallow comment, especially considering he was making his first truly adult decision of his life.

"When you're ready, we can depart."

Draco looked at her, puzzled. He'd asked his parents at breakfast if his presence would be required this afternoon, specifically, before he deciding, when the answer was negative, that it would be the perfect time to leave.

"Diagon Alley is such a terrible crush once the Hogwarts letters have arrived. It will be far more practical to obtain what we can in advance. New clothes, certainly," she said eying the robes he was wearing with disapproval. There was no way he could argue that it wasn't necessary: it seemed unlikely that he'd ever be as tall as his father, but he'd grown at least a couple of inches in the last year, and his robes no longer fit as they should. Draco, resigned that he would have to pretend to be the dutiful son for at least a while longer, started to put his bag down.

"Why would you go to the trouble of packing that if you didn't intend to bring it?"

He looked up nervously and tried to guess what she'd meant by that, but her face was frozen in the blank, distant expression she wore in public. It served her well, convincing most of society that she was flightier than a Snidget and half as useful.

He hesitated with his hand still on the bag, and she raised her brow slowly, challengingly. He was familiar with that expression as well – it usually warned of punishments for insolence or willfulness – so Draco dutifully picked up the bag and headed for the door. If she _did_ suspect what he intended to do and didn't want to confront him here, that would be better for him anyway. The house elves answered to his father, no matter how much any of them might prefer otherwise, and since Dobby had disappeared, Lucius had kept a much tighter reign on them. If she didn't suspect anything, there was no point in giving her cause to watch him now, when he least needed it.

* * *

Draco looked around the Gringotts vault, their first stop of the day, and he was reminded once again how much he was giving up – in practical terms, this time, rather than nostalgic ones. While his mother collected what she needed, he noted all the amount of money there, money that should theoretically have been his one day, money that he knew he would need, wherever he was going. He'd accepted that he would need to change his life-style (the best of everything was expensive), but he had no idea at all about other options – what they were, where to get them, how much they would cost.

He'd taken as much as he could from his own vault, but the limits on the account aside, Lucius would be suspicious if there was more activity than normal, and Draco hoped to capitalize on his parents' usual lack of interest in his whereabouts. If he were careful, and lucky, it might be days before they noticed he was missing. His mother's decision to visit Diagon today was an unexpected boon, since it allowed him to withdraw his term money, which would help tremendously. That and what little he'd accrued this summer was all he'd have: even if Lucius couldn't seize the trust Draco's grandfather had left for him – and Draco was certain he'd find a way – Draco wouldn't be able to access the funds without returning to Diagon Alley or leaving some sort of paper trail, and being found was not part of the plan.

"We're finished here, I think. Except..," his mother waved at a trunk near the door, plain but obviously expensive and in good condition. "I know you have your heart set on a new trunk, Darling, but perhaps you could consider using that one?"

Draco was bemused. He hadn't a word about a new trunk, since he knew, even if she didn't, that he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts in September and wouldn't need one, but he stopped himself from protesting when Narcissa glanced warningly at the Goblin in the doorway.

"It belonged to..." she paused a moment as though she were trying to remember a name or the exact degree of relationship, which surprised Draco, since he couldn't remember her ever losing track of ancestral details. She shrugged elegantly, "a distant relative. On the Malfoy side, of course," she continued, waving at the initials, GM, engraved on it. "That can be a comfort when you're far from home. Excellent craftsmanship, of course – you won't find the likes of this from the hand of a common stranger. And _family_ , above all, should be remembered, treasured, even if it is indirectly." She placed her hand on his back, a gesture that had replaced hugs years before he'd started at Hogwarts, and coupled with the knowledge that he wasn't sure he'd ever see her again, it was too much. Before he did something disgraceful like start to cry – in front of a goblin, no less – he moved to see what was inside the trunk. A Boggart or the memorabilia of a long ago ancestor would need to be emptied before it could be used. Before he could open it, however, she stopped him and waved her wand to shrink it. "We don't have time for that now, Darling. Let's put it in your pocket and examine the contents later, shall we? We've spent far too much time here as it is."

* * *

Draco dutifully followed his mother through most of the shops in Diagon Alley, taking the opportunity to practice restraint. He was used to purchasing (or convincing his parents to purchase for him) anything that caught his eye. In his new life, he wouldn't have the funds or the space for anything but necessities for a long while, and Draco would have to get used to that.

It wasn't as morally enriching an experience as he'd expected. No wonder the Weasel was so lacking in humour.

Spending the afternoon playing elf for his mother grew old before long, despite most of the items being shrunk before being put in the bags. That most of it she'd purchased for him made the hurt more, not less. The True Path Candle would have been particularly useful to take with him (it extinguished when the carrier made a wrong turn and lit again when the error was corrected), and knowing that he would have to leave behind the latest offering from the Nimbus Racing Boom Company caused an almost physical pain.

He finally left his mother in the clothier's, intending to wait for her from the comfort of a chair and a cold Butterbeer, but his attention was caught by the cover of the _Daily Prophet_ : _~Harry Potter: The Chosen One?~_

He picked up a copy from the rack. _"...Some are going as far as to call Potter the 'Chosen One,'"_ he read, _"believing that the prophesy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He Who_ _Must Not Be Named."_

"Eh, now, that's for buying, not for reading, leastwise, not 'til it leaves this stand."

Draco apologized (to quiet her, mostly, as she had a very carrying voice) and handed her the Knuts to pay for it. He took the paper and headed down the street, wondering if the solution to his problem could be as easy as that. What it would take, he wondered, for Potter to believe that he'd truly abandoned his father's rhetoric?

Absorbed as he was in considering the possibilities, it wasn't until he looked up to cross the street that he recognized the needlessness of doing so.

Fortescue's was closed. He'd forgotten.

Part of Draco's fondness for shopping had come from his mother's insistence that all trips conclude with a sweet, provided he'd behaved himself, and over the years that had evolved into a tradition of ice cream sundaes. He'd order caramel sauce on vanilla ice cream ( _How pedestrian_ , his mother would tease), while she assembled a monstrosity of chocolate – chocolate fudge ice cream, covered in chocolate sauce and chocolate shavings – topped with whipped cream. Draco would tease in return that the whipped cream, not being chocolate, was inappropriate, and she'd defend the gustatory perfection of the contrast. They'd continue in that vein until the sundaes were finished, but in truth, they sampled equally from both.

They wouldn't be able to do that today because Death Eaters had taken the owner the shop and killed him.

It shouldn't hurt this much: it was just a boarded up shop. He knew, though, that it was more than that: something precious had been irreparably broken. It symbolized the loss of his childhood. It was the embodiment of what the Death Eaters would do to the wizarding world.

He would not simply wait and let them destroy him as well.

"What are you staring at, Ferret? Gloating over what your father and his friends have done? Or did you do it yourself?"

Without doing anything so obvious as stiffening his spine, Draco braced himself for the impending confrontation. He turned to find the Weasel flanked by the Weaselette and the Mu–Know it All, with no Boy Who Lived to be seen, just his luck. The only time in his life he actually was remotely interested in speaking to the Specky Git, and _that's_ when he chooses to be absent.

"Yes, of course, Weasley. The first step in my plan for World Domination was indeed to force the closure of the ice cream shop. And before you ask, yes, I did it simply because I knew it would annoy you." Changing his tone from patronizing to falsely sincere, he continued, "I really must commend you on your dedication to the cause of Equality for Wizards. Not many I know would be willing to sacrifice pride and dignity to assume the persona you do simply to show the Mu–" Draco's pause here was deliberate "–uggleborns to advantage."

As expected, Weasley leapt to Granger's defence: "I'm not pretending anything to make Hermione look good!" He was yelling, nearly, and the girl in question shushed him. Weasel took offence that his gallantry wasn't appreciated, and they began bickering. Fortunately, the volume had dropped to heated whispers.

Draco hadn't fully appreciated the extent of Potter's patience, and he wondered, not for the first time, why the other boy bothered. Assuming a sympathetic look, he turned to the Girl Weasel. "Please extend my sympathies to your mother. I hadn't put much credence in the dangers of inbreeding amongst the pure-blood families, and I realize now that may have been a mistake."

Predictably, once the Weasel had worked out what Draco meant, he launched a tirade against Draco himself, Lucius Malfoy, and Death Eater families in general. Having received numerous lectures on the subject of self-control and the consequences if he continued to disgrace to the family name with public humiliation, Draco fought his instincts and managed – barely – to hold his temper and his tongue. It would be just his luck that his father would be in Diagon today as well and catch him. He couldn't afford to have Lucius detaining him, not today, when he was prepared and nearly had a plan.

Since he wasn't composing retorts, he was able to listen to the girls and the twin menaces – who arrived, as they were wont to do, at the first sign of drama – as they tried to calm their friend and brother. What he heard was not encouraging: they focused on the impropriety of the time and place, not even mentioning the severe generalizations and unsupported accusations the Weasel was making.

Listening to them, Draco recognized the impossibility of turning to Harry Potter for help. Even if the Gryffindor Golden Boy could put aside his personal grievances (and he had far more reason to be offended than anyone, excepting, perhaps, Granger), even if he could be convinced to give Draco a second chance, those around him would never allow it. Dumbledore might, possibly, given his belief in second chances (witness the way he was being duped by Severus Snape), but Draco didn't trust McGonagall, Potter's friends, the rest of their allies... They would eventually convince him that the danger of trusting Draco Malfoy was beyond even a Gryffindor's idea of a worthy risk. As much as they joked about it in Slytherin, bravery did not automatically equal foolhardiness. He'd be forced to deal with constant suspicion, biting remarks, and, worst of all, pity.

Without Draco responding to his taunts, Weasley gave up earlier than usual, and Granger, the Weasley girl, and the twins were able to drag him to the twins' shop just as Draco's mother caught up to him. "This not the sort of attention you need right now," she said quietly, leading him to one of the cafes further down Diagon Alley.

They'd settled themselves at one of the little tables and were having dessert – chocolate torte and crème brûlée, without any ice cream to be seen – but it wasn't the same. Part of the delight of the Fortescue's tradition was Lucius's disdain for ice cream consumed on its own, and Draco could name three places off the top of his head, including Malfoy Manor, that served better crème brûlée.

He was trying to be congenial and carefree, the way he would be under normal circumstances, but it was an effort. He was far too worried about what he would do, where he would go. He didn't trust the Ministry or Dumbledore, and he'd just written off Potter as well.

He was startled out of his thoughts by his mother's hand on his arm, and he looked up to find her staring at him intently. He shifted, hoping to dislodge her hand, but she tightened her grip until he stilled.

She placed a thick envelope on the table and slid it towards him. It was plain, good quality, of course, with ' _ante omnia, sorores_ ' written across the front. There were no other markings.

Puzzled, he looked up at his mother.

"It's charmed – you won't be able to open it." She said quietly. "Take it to my sister. Do what she tells you to do without asking a lot of questions. It will be difficult and frightening, but be patient." She held him with a piercing stare, and he realized that she was more _there_ than he could remember ever seeing her. "Your aunt will help."

Her discretion, her intensity, the care she took with her words – it made him suspect she meant more than the obvious interpretation of her remarks, and a shadow of an idea began to form. He nodded and tried to put the letter in his bag, but his mother didn't let go, looking at him for several moments, searching his face for something. She seemed to find it eventually, nodded once, then released the envelope. That seemed to confirm his suspicion, and he tried hard not to gawk as he felt everything he knew to be true shatter and realign into something unrecognizable and strange. He put the envelope away, and his mother resumed her chatter. It had been a bit surreal, and without the envelope in sight, Draco nearly convinced himself that he'd imagined the whole thing.

Draco had originally intended to suggest that they Floo home from the Leaky Cauldron; his mother could Floo first, or he could see to it that she would be distracted as he left, and he would be able to change his destination unobtrusively. After their conversation at lunch and Narcissa's strange behaviour all afternoon, however, Draco suspected that distracting her wouldn't be as difficult as he'd feared. If he understood his mother correctly, he had a plan, the beginnings of one, at least. In fact, he was feeling rather optimistic. That is, until they were entering the pub, and he ran into Severus Snape. Literally.

"Excuse me, sir." Draco held his bags tightly and was relieved when neither they nor their contents spilled onto the floor.

"I realize that you are technically a child on vacation," his professor sneered the word as though it were something pornographic, "but I had hoped that you understood what is expected of a Malfoy."

"Yes, sir," _I'm very aware_.

"Are you?" Snape looked at Draco's mother. "How surprising to see you here, Narcissa. Lucius should have informed you at luncheon that you would be having very important guests this evening. I would have expected you to be at home preparing." He looked pointedly at Draco. "Both of you."

Draco knew with cold-blooded certainty what that meant, and he thanked whatever deity had prompted him to choose today to leave.

Narcissa laughed without humour. "Our staff is excellent, Severus, you know that, and more than capable of preparing a worthy meal even with only a few hours notice. What would be the point of having them if I had to monitor their every movement? We were just picking up a few things for Draco."

"Then you are prepared to do what is necessary to uphold the honour of the Malfoy name?"

"Of course, sir." _Better than I'd feared I'd be, thanks to your inadvertent warning_.

"On your way, Draco," Narcissa interjected, "As much as I've enjoyed our afternoon together, your professor is correct; you have Important People to meet."

"Of course, Mother. Good afternoon, sir." They seemed too casual, too meaningless, to be the last words he'd likely ever say to two of the most important people in his life, but they would have to suffice. He watched gratefully as his mother unobtrusively steered Snape away from the fireplace, engaging him in conversation about his plans for the remainder of the holidays.

Hoping he'd read his mother's signals correctly, Draco spoke the unfamiliar Floo address quietly, but he needn't have bothered. From the Floo, he was able to see – though he was the only one who could – his mother flick her wand towards the bar-keep, and Draco's words were lost in the shattering of glass as he was swallowed by the green flame.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything; it's the property of JKR, Raincoast, RTD, Cowlip, Showtime, et al.
> 
> "Cecily Boden's shocking marriage to Kirk Strange" belongs to Beren (from _Gold Tinted Spectacles_ ) and is used without permission.
> 
> Many thanks, too, to DameBoudicca for the Latin translation.
> 
> Warnings for this story: slash, of course, language, adult themes.
> 
> Additional notes, including spoilers, etc, can be found before the first chapter.
> 
> For Rainbow2007.
> 
> Originally posted: 15 Feb. '09

Chapter Two

Draco arrived at his destination, grateful that he didn't appear to have been barred from the residence preventatively and a bit scornful at the naïveté of the occupants for not doing so, at least until he tried to exit the fireplace. He found himself caught there, unable to raise his arms or move his legs. After a few moments of repeated trying, he finally gave in and called out to the house like a common hooligan, "Hello?"

He noticed movement across the room a moment later and had time to identify the form of a woman – _Aunt Bella?_ – before she drew her wand and stunned him.

He woke slowly, in that groggy manner unique to _Enervate_ , and that was enough to remind him what had happened. He hesitated before opening his eyes, not knowing what he would find when he did. There was no doubt the spell had worked, however, so the longer he delayed, the more cowardly he looked. Since that would only diminish any power he would have in the ensuing discussion, the pause he permitted himself was short.

The first thing he saw was his wand, lying next to the tea service on the table in front of him, taunting him with its tantalizingly inaccessible proximity, and there, next to his wand, were the items from his pockets, including the letter, the trunk, and the emergency Portkey he'd carried since he'd been deemed mature enough to wander Diagon Alley on his own. He felt violated that they'd searched him while he was unconscious but simultaneously less scornful since he understood why they had done it.

He was sitting on the settee, as perfectly dignified as if he'd come to take tea with his aunt, not bound in any way, magically or physically. Seated across from him was the woman who stunned him, and, fortunately for Draco's peace of mind, the similarity in appearance between Andromeda Tonks (for that was who she must be) and her elder sister lessened with the decreasing of both the distance between them and Draco's level of panic. The only other occupant of the room was leaning on the frame of the door to the rest of the house – with a direct line of fire to both himself and the fireplace, he noted. She was a uniformed Auror whose pink hair clashed horribly with the red robes, and her identity was equally easy to guess. With her arms crossed and her posture slouched, she looked like nothing so much as a sullen teenager making a forced appearance; however, he knew, without a doubt, that her wand was trained on him and that she wouldn't hesitate to use it if he attempted to reach for his own.

The room was decorated as tastefully, if less expensively than the house he'd grown up in. Before he'd noticed more than a general impression, his perusal was interrupted by his aunt's voice. "I apologize for the lack of a proper greeting; it was inordinately rude. Tea?" With as much grace as his mother had ever shown, she reached for the pot and began to pour two cups. Draco suspected that the Auror refused more because she would have had to change her position than any other reason.

"Please. And think nothing of it; it was perfectly understandable, under the circumstances. I apologize for not giving proper notice of my intent to call." He accepted the cup she offered him. "Thank you, Mrs. Tonks."

He brought the cup to his mouth but blew on his tea rather than drinking – because it was hot, not because he suspected it was laced or otherwise contaminated, despite the Auror's accusing smirk. He was glad he'd chosen to delay drinking when the next words out of the elder Tonks's mouth were "You're very welcome. And you may call me Aunt Andromeda, or even Dromie, if you'd like."

The younger woman's jaw dropped as she stared at her mother in disbelief. Draco, unfortunately, was much too shocked himself to properly appreciate it, and he kept his own jaw locked by sheer force of will.

Raised in a strict pure-blood household herself, his aunt understood the shame of being forced to show emotion and turned to her daughter, courteously giving Draco a moment to collect himself. "Who has the right more than he?" Draco recognized the challenging tone as one his own mother used, and he understood completely when his cousin backed down with nothing more than a shake of her head. When Andromeda – _Dromie?_ – looked back, the younger woman glared at him, daring him to mock her capitulation, but he was still absorbing what he'd learned.

"You're Dromie?" That put an entirely different spin on his mother's stories of her childhood. "Dromie" had played prominently in nearly all of the tales, caring for her, playing with her, creating entertainments for her…. He'd assumed Dromie had been an extremely dedicated house elf.

She smiled at him, a gentle combination of understanding and amusement, then waved to the other woman. "And this is your cousin, Dora."

"Tonks," she corrected defiantly, and her mother sighed softly. Draco thought the reminder both unnecessary – it wasn't as though he'd been unaware of her parentage – and rude.

"Draco, please." He extended the courtesy to both of them, partly to show his cousin that he would not stoop to her level.

For a few moments, Draco and Aunt Andromeda spoke of the most general pleasantries. It was a careful conversation, given the number of topics that were entirely out of the question and the number that could have unexpected pitfalls. They stuck to the most banal topics – they actually discussed Celestina Warbeck's recent release and Cecily Boden's shocking marriage to Kirk Strange – but the pure-blood Slytherin in him was delighted at the exercise, and he rather thought Andromeda was enjoying herself as well.

The younger Tonks, clearly, was not. She remained a sentinel in the doorway, sullen and quiet, until she finally interrupted Draco mid-sentence. "Why are you here?"

"Dora!"

"It's fine, Aunt Andromeda," Draco could see his cousin's expression from where he sat, and it had been getting darker by the moment. Regrettably, he needed the good will of these people, so rather than testing her patience further, he picked up the letter lying on the table next to his shrunken trunk and satchel. "When my mother told me to give this to my aunt, I assumed she didn't mean Aunt Bellatrix, and I think I was right." He tried to hand it to Andromeda, but she glanced at it and nodded, distractedly, her attention shifting to the trunk. She reached out and ran her finger gently along the edge. "Where did you find this?"

"It was in our Gringotts vault. My mother gave it to me."

"When?" she asked, not with suspicion, but purposefully.

"This afternoon."

She nodded again. "What did she say?"

Draco looked at her, wondering what relevance that would have, but Andromeda must have assumed he'd misunderstood because she repeated the question, somewhat impatiently. "When she gave it to you, what did she say?"

"That is belonged to my many times great grandfather and that he'd duel the monsters under the bed when I was sleeping," he replied, knowing it came out more sharply than it should have, under the circumstances. He took a deep breath and bit his tongue. Hard. Maybe the pain would serve as a reminder to watch his words.

"Verbatim, please." There was a note of something desperate in her voice, and her daughter looked as though she were thinking of casting a series of scanning spells or hexes at the trunk, so Draco repeated what he could remember. "She said it belonged to a distant relative on the Malfoy side. That having something from home would be comforting while I was away. That it was better made than anything I'd buy in a store, and that ' _family_ , above all, should be remembered, treasured, even if it is indirectly.'" Thinking about how little his family treasured him, he nearly scoffed aloud at the irony and shook his head to clear the regret. "Then, she shrunk it, and we left."

Andromeda's expression relaxed and she sighed. "Oh, Cissy. You always were a drama queen." The description was so unlike his elegant, restrained mother that Draco nearly snorted. He hoped Andromeda would continue, but she didn't.

"She shrunk it." Tonks said carefully, but a hint of accusation came through.

"Obviously. I'm not allowed outside of term." That hadn't stopped him within the wards of Malfoy Manor, of course, but he knew the letter of the law.

"Without opening it."

What she meant, Draco realized, was _without knowing what was in it._ They'd been warned at Hogwarts from their first transfiguration lessons about the dangers of doing that. It could be incredibly dangerous if the contents were potions ingredients for example, or other substances that could react badly.

He realized, too, that the goblin had seen her do it, and that could put her at great risk. Fortunately, the chance of Lucius Malfoy deigning to speak to one of the goblins outside of business transactions was minimal and of the goblin volunteering the information, non-existent, but if Lucius had reason to suspect her complicity in his escape and was searching for evidence of it, he would eventually get there. Draco needed to find a way to protect her.

Considering the enormity of the risk, Draco wondered what was in it, and he clearly wasn't the only one. Still shaking her head, Andromeda put the trunk on the floor and enlarged it.

"Wait!" Draco and Tonks exclaimed in unison.

She ignored them and gently traced the monogram with her finger. Draco looked up at Tonks, hoping to find a clue to what was so fascinating, but she was looking back at him just as curiously.

"What do you want?"

"Leave him alone, Dora."

He knew that if he were going to need their help – and he was – it would be easier if they understood his motivation. As much as he disliked the idea of telling virtual strangers – ones who had traditionally been enemies at that – his most intimate secrets, Draco explained what he'd been ordered to do. "I think telling Muggles about the Magical world is tantamount to suicide," he finished, "and I think that welcoming Mu-ggleborns the way we do currently dilutes the integrity of our society. I do not think Muggles need to be exterminated, I do not think one of the most powerful Wizards in three centuries needs to be assassinated, and I most certainly do not think that children should be ordered to become murderers before they've taken their N.E.W.T.S.!" He took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. He was only marginally successful.

"I'd be all noble and offer to switch sides, but I've not had lessons enough in Occlumency to become a spy, and, frankly, I don't trust your side to defend a Malfoy with the diligence that would be necessary." Knowing Tonks would take offence at that, he quickly cut off her protest. "I'm a traitor now, and an example will need to be made. Protecting me would require the same dedication and resources that are used to defend Potter. That won't happen, so I'll be dead in very short order. Or worse. So I need to hide somewhere they won't think to look for me."

He took a deep breath, still shocked that this had become his only option. "The Muggle world." He turned to Andromeda, the more sympathetic half of his audience. "Will you help me, please?"

"You don't need to ask." She tapped the sealed envelope on the table. "Your mother already did."

Draco's jaw dropped.

* * *

The following days were interminable.

Despite the translation of ' _ante omnia, sorores_ ' – sisters above all – the letter was intended for neither Andromeda nor Bellatrix, though Draco was right to bring it to Andromeda, since she was the only one who could connect Draco to the woman – the Muggle – for whom it was intended. How _Narcissa Malfoy_ knew a Muggle at all was beyond his imagination, but it would, at least, be a connection of some kind, which was better than attempting to navigate a strange world without one.

Nymphadora – he understood, hearing that, the preference to be called by her surname – couldn't remove the Trace on his wand, so he was given a replacement, a wand that had belonged to an uncle he had barely remembered existed as he'd been disowned by the family long before Draco had been born. His father had lent him another at times, but it was kept in his desk behind complicated locking charms, and he'd deemed it not worth the risk of attempting to liberate it.

This wand wasn't a terrific match, but it would work well enough in an emergency, which would be the only time Draco could use it if he hoped to remain hidden. It was a relief, since he'd known he wouldn't be able to use his own. Not that he would need it any time soon, as Draco was restricted to the house with no contact with the outside world while they planned his escape.

The possibility of returning to Malfoy Manor and spying had been raised, almost immediately; it was such an obvious use of the qualities Slytherin was known for. Possibly, Draco could have returned home, several hours late, with an excuse that would mollify his father and Voldemort, but Draco couldn't think of one. Admittedly, he didn't try very hard, but neither could anyone else.

In addition to the difficulties he'd raised in that initial conversation with Andromeda and Tonks, which he'd overheard her repeating to Shacklebolt, she had added, with a significant look, a warning about the dangers of exposing someone to that sort of life so young as sixteen. Draco took that to mean that something had happened to someone in a similar situation, and he wondered who it could have been. After several days of contemplation – it wasn't as though he had much else to do – he decided that Wormtail must have been sent in to spy but been converted instead. Having seen the rat-like man fawning over his master both in the Dark Lord's presence and out of it, Draco could have assured them that he, Draco, had far greater strength of character, but that would have threatened Draco's life expectancy far more than the satisfaction would have been worth. So he didn't say anything, on that subject at least.

He _did_ take the first available opportunity to draw Tonks and Shacklebolt's attention to the fact that his mother had put herself in great danger going against the Dark Lord. They assured him she would do what she could for his mother, but all three were aware of how little that was, given the animosity between the Tonks and Malfoy families and that they were on opposite sides of the war.

A few days later, Tonks took a moment to assure him that she'd seen his mother when she was working security for a society event the previous evening, and that she'd seemed in good health. Draco, knowing how adept his mother was at concealing her emotions, knew better than to ask if she'd seemed worried.

One of Ted Tonks' Muggle relatives was asked to make the travel arrangements, and Tonks had provided him with a sort of cloth trunk that included several changes of Muggle clothing. Draco assumed the procurer wasn't Tonks herself, as there was a note included, and she could have just told him the information. There were collared shirts, jumpers, and dress trousers, as well as t-shirts and denim trousers, which, according to the note, would allow for casual wear to somewhat formal. The author of the note specified which combinations would fall into which category and also recommended that the denim would be more practical for traveling long distances since the trousers weren't spelled with an anti-wrinkle charm.

Once Tonks and whoever else she'd had look at it had determined that there were no traps hidden on or in the trunk, Draco was allowed to open it. Inside, they found galleons stacked nearly to the brim, and a photo of Narcissa that was frozen in place so Draco could take it with him into the Muggle world.

Draco was happy to be able to repay the expenses incurred by the travel and clothing once the galleons had been exchanged (by whom, Draco did not know) for Muggle currencies. Not only did they use paper, primarily, instead of gold of any kind – and Andromeda had had the devil's own time convincing him that he hadn't been cheated – but they couldn't agree on a uniform system. It had been a long, frustrating discussion, but Draco eventually understood currency and rates of exchange.

It had been one of many lessons in Muggle society that Draco had endured while trapped behind the wards of the Tonks residence. The only thing that made them bearable – aside from Draco's reluctant acceptance of the necessity of them – was that he wasn't being questioned about the activities of his family, their friends, anyone who'd ever entered Malfoy Manor.

Once, over dinner, Narcissa had commented that it was a shame that the mongrel (meaning Tonks) was tainted; under other circumstances she'd have been a very useful convert to the cause. He understood now, what his mother had meant. The Auror was bright, talented, and a skilled interrogator.

Draco revealed the location of as much contraband as he was aware of, in Malfoy Manor and elsewhere, and reported on what else he'd seen passing through. He named all the Death Eaters he could and what he knew about their activities – though he was careful to avoid linking Snape to any significant current activities whenever possible. The lesser charges they could accrue from Draco's testimony would be enough to arrest Snape if they wanted but not serious enough to put him away for long. As much as Draco would have preferred to give them nothing at all, if all senior Death Eaters were captured but one, it would look suspicious. As it was, the Aurors seemed surprised that he was unable to tie Snape to more. He was careful not to lie outright; he didn't want to risk casting doubt on the rest of his testimony, but he was equally careful to point out that he had no proof. Technically, other than his word, he didn't for many of the others, either, but he didn't draw attention to that.

Draco would have felt guilty – Snape had to be the Dark Lord's spy closest to Dumbledore and was no doubt wreaking havoc on their side, but he was _needed_ in Slytherin. He was a good head of house, and contrary to the accusations of others, he did not actively recruit his students. There was no one else on staff that Draco would trust with the Slytherins. Besides, Draco _knew_ he'd given them enough to arrest Fudge, had given them more than enough to prove that he was Lucius' willing lackey and unfit for office. If they wanted anything major on Snape, they'd have to catch him themselves.

The night before leaving, Draco realized with surprise that he regretted that he hadn't had more time to get to know this portion of his family, but in the end, he had to do what he had to do, including one small betrayal of their trust. He sent one owl.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything; it's the property of JKR, Raincoast, RTD, Cowlip, Showtime, et al.
> 
> Warnings for this story: slash, of course, language, adult themes, and the occasional cliché.
> 
> Additional notes, including spoilers, etc, can be found before the first chapter.
> 
> This is where the _Queer as Folk_ (US) crossover starts, between episodes 2.2 and 2.3, meaning there are MAJOR, MAJOR, (I can not express how MAJOR) spoilers for the end of Season One. Please, please, if you haven't seen the show to that point, go and watch it – in Canada, for example, Showcase-ca has the episodes online – or read the televisionwithoutpity-com recaps (but these are beautiful, beautiful men who are very, very talented actors, and I recommend watching as much as you can).
> 
> Originally posted: 10 Apr 09

Chapter Three

Airplanes, Draco decided, were _not_ his favourite mode of transportation. He felt a reluctant admiration for the ingenuity that enabled the machines to be designed and built, but he was far too sceptical of non-Magical alternatives to trust that the contraption would hold together. His ensuing nervousness and the duration of the flight had made the trip interminable. He'd tried to ask how it flew, what kept it up in the air given the weight and distance – clear and reasonable questions, he'd thought – but he was unable to get a satisfactory explanation. Eventually, he'd been told to "think of it as 'magic.'" It was a near thing, but he managed not to say anything in response. That moment of restraint also gave him time to notice that the attendant had looked ready to hit him with whatever the Muggle equivalent of a Silencing Charm was. He stopped asking, but the experience didn't go very far towards relieving his tension.

Not that he would have been at ease regardless – Draco Malfoy was not used to going hat in hand to anyone.

Retrieving his luggage and finding the car that had been arranged to meet him had been relatively straightforward: he'd had clear instructions and few mishaps, for which he was very grateful. He was nervous enough about the next task that he wasn't sure he'd have been able to go through with it if he'd had to deal with additional complications.

Before long, he found himself in front of number 38-4, a small, narrow house in a neighbourhood filled with identical buildings crammed against each other. Waiting for his knock to be answered, he saw the movement of the occupant through the curtains on the window of the door. She must have seen him as well, and she'd obviously mistaken him for someone else.

"Justin?" She sounded so surprised and so pleased, that Draco wished he were the person she was hoping he was. Wished that her face would light up like that for him, rather than falling, as it did when she got a proper look at who was on the front step. Wished that his first impression hadn't been one of overwhelming disappointment, which did not bode well.

"I'm afraid not. I'm sorry... to intrude. If you're expecting someone, I can return at another time." Though what he would do then was beyond him, since he'd been told to deliver the letter and wait for further instructions. He really didn't feel capable of attempting Plan B.

After a moment, her expression cleared to a pleasant neutrality, and she replied, "No, not at all. How may I help you?"

"I was told to deliver this." He handed over the envelope, trying very hard to look harmless. He handed her the envelope his mother had given him on Diagon Alley. _It was Charmed_ , Andromeda had explained, _so that the intended recipient will be able to open the letter_. Muggles would see a proper address and feel an urge to help it be delivered to the rightful recipient.

Draco assumed that last wouldn't be necessary, as the woman took the envelope as though it were a Boggart. Her eyes flew back to him, and she raised her free hand to her mouth. Draco was beginning to worry when she recovered herself. "I'm so sorry. Please some in." She took his arm and nearly pulled him into the house, as if he might try to escape. She closed the door behind him and led him up the stairs and into a small sitting room.

"Would you care for something to drink? Tea?" She radiated impatience, so Draco refused politely, took the seat that she offered, and motioned to the letter. "That should answer most of your questions." He hoped, anyway, because he certainly couldn't. "Perhaps reading it first would be best."

She nodded, sitting herself on the couch adjacent to him, and opened the envelope with great trepidation.

Draco waited somewhat uncomfortably for her to finish reading the letter and was surprised at the depth and breadth of emotion she showed while reading.

It was highly disconcerting when she reached out to clutch his arm, but he remained still, not wanting to offend her – at least, not until he knew what was happening. She finished and seemed surprised and flustered to discover that she was holding him. She apologized and reached instead for a tissue to wipe the tears from her face. Once she'd achieved some semblance of recovery, she apologized again. "I'm sorry. Your mother was my best friend as a child. I haven't heard from her in a long time."

That wasn't quite what Draco had expected, but it made a certain amount of sense. Or it would have, but for one thing: he was reasonably certain – Andromeda had nearly flat out stated – that this woman was a Muggle. Not, like Ted Tonks, a Muggle-born, but a _Muggle_. He'd suffered though several lessons on surviving in an entirely Muggle environment for that reason. How his mother could have come into contact with a _Muggle_ as a child was beyond supposition.

Draco stared at her dumbly, and she smiled at him sympathetically. "This must be confusing for you, but I'll do my best to help you with the transition." That sounded promising, Draco thought, like he wouldn't be turned out onto the street with naught but what he carried. In truth, since he had the money from the trunk, that was quite a bit, but he'd likely make noticeable mistakes, making it easier for him to be tracked.

"How is she, your mother?"

He had no idea what to say, where to start. "When was the last time you saw her?" he asked, knowing that it would at least give him a frame of reference.

"We were eleven." She smiled sadly. "It was bitter sweet. I was so happy she was going to become my sister 'for real' but so sad to be leaving."

There were implications there that Draco was not prepared to deal with, so he asked the obvious question. "You left?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't permitted to stay," she said with a twisted grimace, "my parents couldn't admit to having a squib in the family." She waved the letter. "Apparently they claimed I died."

He nodded, restricting his reply to a non-committal noise, not trusting any vocalization he'd be able to make otherwise. It wasn't the claim of a death that shocked him – he knew very well that pure-blood families did that sort of thing – but that this woman had belonged to one of them. He realized that she would have been part of his parents' social circle, a woman he would have known well, given her claim of friendship with his mother.

"Have you decided what name you're going to use? Your mother didn't tell me yours: she thought it safer that I not know, and she didn't know what you were going to choose."

Draco shrugged. Giving up his name would make this real, and he wasn't quite ready for that.

"Well, you're going to have to choose something; it's going to be awkward if I'm limited to addressing you as 'Nephew.'"

Draco stared at her, dumbfounded.

"They didn't tell you," she realized and continued gently, "I'm your aunt, your father's younger sister. I was born Genevra Malfoy."

* * *

When she was finally able to avoid her mother's eagle eye long enough to escape the party, she bolted for the stairs and raced to the bedroom that was as familiar to her as her own.

"Genni?"

It had been a month since she'd seen her best friend: Genni's family had taken her on a trip, right after the Hogwarts letters were sent out.

She found her sitting on the bed, holding the stuffed dragon that they shared – they'd pooled their pocket money to buy it together, and custody was transferred between them, religiously, every week. Genni wasn't wearing the pretty dress they'd gotten last week, the one that matched hers but for the colour. In fact, she was wearing her nightdress – on the most important night of their lives!

"How come you're not at the party?"

She and Genni had realized ages ago that she was, in fact, a changeling, and the betrothal was really a ploy to return her to her proper family. She and Genni had the same long, golden hair, after all, when the rest of her family all had black, and they had the very same birthday. When she was married, they could be sisters for real, twins, even, and that was all they had talked about since they'd first overheard their fathers discussing the possibility of an engagement.

The other girl hugged the toy closer and shook her head, "I'm sick, Cissy."

Cissy climbed onto the bed next to her, mindful of her mother's warning that she take care of her dress. She wrapped her arms around her friend in a tight hug.

"S'okay. It's more important that you rest up for tomorrow." Hoping to cheer her up, Cissy chose the most interesting topic she could think of that wasn't related to the party downstairs that Genni was being forced to miss. "I was so excited when I got my letter! I wanted to Floo right away, but Mother said I couldn't until I could be dignified. It was ever so hard, but I thought, finally, I could manage it, but then Mother said I couldn't, that you'd gone away and that we'd be going to Diagon Alley without you. Bella was really mean, but Dromie made her stop and made me stop arguing as my forfeit. It wasn't nearly so fun as it would have been if we'd been together, but I got my wand! It's poplar with a unicorn tail in it. I've already learned some spells. I can show you! Where's your wand?"

"I haven't got one."

"But we leave for Hogwarts tomorrow!"

Genni shook her head. "I can't go."

"What! You have to! We're supposed to take the train together! And be Sorted together!"

"I can't. I'm sick."

Cissy responded with a crude phrase her Uncle had had taught her – and paid her handsomely in Honeyduke's chocolate not to repeat in front of her mother. It always made Genni giggle. It didn't this time.

"When will you be better?" she asked seriously.

Genni shook her head again, and this time she couldn't stop the tears. "I won't. I can't go."

"But... we're going to be in Ravenclaw together." They'd spent many hours considering the subject. Despite being unable to convince anyone to reveal how the sorting worked, they were determined to find some way to manage it. Ravenclaw wouldn't get them disowned, but it would mean they wouldn't be under the watchful eyes of their respective siblings.

Genni was still crying. "I didn't get a Hogwarts letter. 'Cause I'm sick. So Mother and Father are sending me away. To America."

Cissy wasn't able to process the first part of that, so she focused on what she could. "But there's wolves there. And bears."

Genni's tears were contagious, and the two girls were sobbing in each other's arms when Andromeda found them.

* * *

"I saw Andromeda twice after that. The first time was just after your parents were married. Your mother found some correspondence from the law firm the Malfoys use for Muggle-related issues, and she made the logical assumption when she saw the name 'Jennifer Black.'" Draco started, and she explained. "'Malfoy' is unheard of as a last name in the Muggle world, but 'Black' is very common. Since I didn't have a great deal of familial loyalty, I chose to use 'Black' instead. Narcissa sent a message to Andromeda – just my name and the lawyer's address – but it was enough that she could track me down. Unfortunately, she arrived just as I'd decided to turn my back on the Malfoys and the wizarding world just as completely as they'd turned their backs on me. I told Andromeda to leave me alone, packed my bags, and headed off to Dartmouth University without looking back."

Jennifer looked lost for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know if it would have made a difference if we'd stayed in touch or if she'd tried earlier. As it was, I spent a couple of years doing anything that responsible people told me that I shouldn't." She shrugged ruefully. "Andromeda's second visit was a few years later. I'd married, we'd had a son, and we were building a life together. Disrupting that was the last thing I wanted. She didn't have a chance to say much more than Narcissa'd had a baby before I told her to stay away and slammed the door in her face."

During the telling of the tale, Draco had recovered from the shock of learning that his aunt was a squib (and given the number of times Lucius had taunted Draco's mother with about her Mudblood-loving sister, he had to wonder how she'd refrained from using that information in retaliation).

It was strange, too, having spent most of his life thinking of aunts as an abstract concept, being invited to address three women as such in the past year.

Returning to the subject of names, she added that if he had been saddled with one of the Latin or Constellation names that were traditional in his family, well, that would be as unusual as 'Malfoy.' They discussed options, and in the end, they came up with something Draco thought he could live with.

Eventually, she led him upstairs to a small, plain room that Draco knew he would have mocked only days ago. Today, his scorn was overwhelmed by an emotion that he'd learned to recognize as gratitude.

"This is my son's room, your cousin Justin." Draco was surprised. The room was entirely devoid of personal items, and he'd assumed it was a guest room. "He's not living here just now." There was pain there. Draco chose to ignore it, but he remembered it for later.

He unpacked his meagre belongings and, at Jennifer's suggestion, took a short nap before dinner.

* * *

Draco met Molly, the younger of his two American cousins, at dinner that first night, and Jennifer must have used the time he was upstairs to explain to her daughter who he was because she was unsurprised to see him.

It had been love at first sight, at least on her part: it was very flattering, the way the eight-year-old followed him around and took it upon herself to teach him to speak "properly." That she did so with peals of laughter kept his ego from taking the adoration too seriously.

As did the very obvious fact that she was using him as a stand-in for her brother. And with good reason.

According to Jennifer, Justin and Draco had a great deal in common. She'd made the remark in a conversation about Draco's patience with Molly; years ago, she'd said, Justin had drawn for hours, illustrating the adventures of Molly and her stuffed animals. Draco knew she'd meant it as a compliment, but he couldn't help but be a bit offended.

No matter how great he might have been then, the as-yet-unseen Justin was rarely around, and according to Molly, when he was, all he did was talk about his roommate, an "old guy" named Brian. That had prompted all sorts of scenarios in Draco's imagination, until he realized that "old" in Molly's world seemed to be anything over twenty. However, given Jennifer's surprised delight when Draco had arrived and she'd thought Justin was at the door, and the fact that in the fortnight Draco had been there the prat hadn't returned a single one of the messages his mother had left for him (Draco knew, because he'd watched her leave them, that Jennifer had left at least four – one at work, one on his cellphone, and two at the apartment where he was staying), Draco had to assume that at least some of Molly's grousing was legitimate.

Draco would have pressed his aunt for more details, but Jennifer became visibly upset when the topic was raised, so he settled for gleaning what information he could as it became available. He assumed it wouldn't take very long: unlike the Malfoys, even before the Dark Lord's return, the Taylors talked, even if it wasn't always about important things. Meals were usually dominated by scheduling – given that both Jennifer and her ex-husband worked, arranging Molly's activities took some work – but Jennifer seemed genuinely interested in how Molly spent her time and what she wanted to do.

Molly had wanted to stay home with him, but Draco was relieved when Jennifer insisted she go to soccer camp as planned. Things were still strange enough without having someone scrutinize his every move. Instead, Jennifer had given him food, a stack of books, and strict instructions about what he could and couldn't touch (anything that was attached to the wall with a thick cord was off limits).

She'd returned to the house early that first day, before picking up Molly, and answered the most pressing of his questions. The rest she'd answered after Molly had gone to bed, that night and the ones following.

Parts of the Muggle lessons Draco had been subjected to before leaving England made much more sense now, though others made even less. Soon he'd been granted permission to use the microwave and the television, the latter leading to several hours of Jennifer reassuring Draco the people he'd seen on the afternoon talk shows and soap operas were _not_ typical Muggles.

He was reasonably comfortable now, though it was evident that it would be a while before he would be confident making a place for himself in the Muggle world. Hogwarts might be the preeminent school of witchcraft and wizardry in Britain, possibly in the world over, like that, but it had left him woefully unprepared for employment as a Muggle. All the faked credentials in the world couldn't provide him with the more than ten years of education and cultural knowledge he would need. Since he didn't dare risk contact with the wizarding world – even as far away as he was, it was too close to the time of his disappearance, and he had to assume someone was looking for him. Depending on how long it took Scarhead to defeat the Dark Lord, Draco might be able to consider it in a few years. Until then, he would need a tutor, someone who would do the job without asking too many questions. Then, he could claim to be home-schooled and apply to college, once he figured out what he could do, what he'd want to do in this world.

Just now, what he wanted most was to know about Justin, but Jennifer was proving adept at avoiding the topic: after several days, Draco had discovered very little about his mysteriously absent cousin. Justin had stayed with his mother and sister for a couple of weeks recently, recuperating after an extended hospital stay. Despite that, his father, Craig, didn't ask about him when he called to speak with Molly, though he did make a few pointed comments when he came to her pick up one evening. Jennifer had issued a low and tension-filled reprimand, trying – unsuccessfully – to hide her anger from Molly.

Eventually, Draco was forced to find an opportunity to speak with Molly alone, which was how he ended up in the kitchen after dinner one night, doing dishes. By hand.

"Justin wasn't home a lot last year," was Molly's reply to a comment about the sparsity of the decor in the room he was using.

Draco murmured in response to that, not wanting to press too hard (he was certain that Jennifer would not approve of him interrogating her daughter), but Molly was willing – no, eager – to talk. "He'd made these new friends... Dad said they were dangerous."

Draco would have liked to know in what way, but Molly shrugged in response to Draco's raised eyebrow. "I think they did drugs or something. Mom and Dad started fighting all the time. Justin moved out, but they just fought more. Then Dad left, and we had to move here." It was clear from her tone that she wasn't happy with either change.

"There was a fight at Justin's prom – Mom said it wasn't Justin's fault, but Dad says he started it. Anyway, Justin got hurt really bad: he was in the hospital for weeks. When he finally came home, he was like a completely different person. He was angry all the time, and he didn't draw _at all_. Then he moved out again. I haven't seen him since." Her words were carelessly dismissive in a way that Draco knew from experience meant she'd been deeply hurt by his dereliction. "Even when we were still at the other house, he almost never came to visit. Mom works downtown. She might see him then."

Obviously uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, Molly changed the subject. "So, you went to boarding school? Really?"

Jennifer had decided long ago that she wouldn't tell her children about the magical world unless it became necessary, so when the topic of his education was raised, and Molly asked where he'd gone before, he'd kept his answer to a vague "boarding school in Scotland." Unfortunately, some tale she was fond of – he wasn't clear if it was a book or a movie – was set in a boarding school, and she was curious. Jennifer had distracted her previously, but it looked like Draco's own strategy would be working against him. He'd been trying to figure out ever since what he could tell her without lying or making it sound like the most tedious experience ever, but he was not at all prepared for her next question.

"Was there butt fucking there?"

"Molly!"

"Dad and Justin were fighting, before he moved out. I was playing in the back yard and heard yelling, and I came around the side of the house just as Dad told Justin that they were going to send him to boarding school. He told Dad that he would go because there was butt fucking there."

Draco was never able to recall what he'd said in response to that. His mind was otherwise occupied, whirling as he realized what Craig's problem with Justin's friends probably was. He understood, too, that his place here might not as certain as he'd thought. Jennifer didn't seem to share her husband's views on the matter, though, so maybe... Maybe.

* * *

 _What a difference a few days can make._

Draco had arrived with little besides currency and a few changes of clothing. Now, he had his own bank account, additional clothing, and other sundries. In fact, he and Aunt Jennifer had spent the better part of three days in the shops – the _mall,_ he heard his inner Molly correct him.

With years of experience trailing Narcissa Malfoy through different stores for hours, Draco imagined himself well prepared when his aunt had suggested the shopping excursion. Instead, he found their styles had little in common. His mother would find something she liked and buy it. His aunt preferred something she called 'comparison shopping' which required finding all possible options and backtracking to purchase the best bargain.

He'd protested that, on the first day, and they'd returned home for a crash course in budgeting and logistics. He'd learned that what seemed to be a great deal of money piled in the trunk would last him, at best, a few years, if he were careful. It would also mean accepting his aunt's offer to live with her, getting a part-time job as soon as he acclimatized, and qualifying for scholarships once he decided what sort of education he wanted.

It hurt his pride immeasurably to stay without contributing, but that would deplete his finances even sooner (which Jennifer assured him was counterproductive). He'd quickly ascertained that she was speaking from experience – Molly had to concede that her dad was a jerk when it came to her mom and brother – and Jennifer was insistent. She couldn't repay a similar kindness, but she could pay it forward. Since Molly had explained that when Justin had left home the first time he'd moved in with some woman they'd never met, Draco understood what she meant, and he'd put up with Jennifer's shopping style. They'd even had fun, scoring some great deals.

It was late in the afternoon when she led them to a place called the Liberty Diner.

Jennifer just had to pick something up before they were to pick up Molly for dinner, so he felt safe refusing to go in. "I'll wait out here, if that's okay." He tried not to shudder, but even from across the street he could see from here the loud decor. There were flags and banners draped everywhere, and all of them rainbow-coloured. It looked like Hufflepuff's idea of a six-year-old's birthday party, and he was still Malfoy enough to be horrified at the idea of entering the establishment.

"All right. I'll just be a moment." He'd disappointed her again, and he had no idea how. She'd been perfectly fine with him periodically sitting on a bench at the mall rather than following her into every store.

He watched as she entered and was greeted warmly – _loudly_ , he thought, watching the reactions of the patrons – by a Molly Weasley knock off. His aunt was enveloped in a warm hug of greeting and a second, comforting one when, he assumed, he was brought into the conversation, given the looks out the window towards him.

 _Ah. She'd expected to introduce him to her friend._ Narcissa had done the same, and he had been expected to be polite regardless of how tedious it was. He assumed the same applied to tawdriness.

He smiled as warmly as he could in the face of the garishness and waved a bit, hoping Jennifer would understand the gesture as the peace offering he intended it to be. In case she didn't, when Jennifer returned, he apologized directly for not going in with her. She was already upset that Justin was avoiding her, and Draco didn't want to hurt her more. "It just looked so _loud_ in there. It was a bit overwhelming," he tried to explain.

She smiled a bit at that. "That was quiet for Liberty Diner, actually."

"Not the volume," _though only because I hadn't heard the waitress_ , he added silently, "the colours. Are rainbows a common decorating theme in America?" He managed to keep most of the horror he felt at the idea out of his tone.

"Not as much as they should be."

 _Shit_. The cold was back, and she'd started walking faster, putting distance between them. He reached out to stop her, and let his confusion show. That hurt his pride, a bit, but he found it expedient when there was cultural miscommunication.

"I thought the symbolism was the same in..." her voice trailed in a way that Draco had already learned to associate with Jennifer remembering the number of worlds that were between them: one a Muggle and one a wizard; one American, one British; one a parent, one still a teen.

"Debbie's a member of the local PFLAG chapter – Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, she's the president, actually – and the mother of a gay son. So am I."

He nodded in acceptance of that, the information and the meaning behind it, and focused on looking over her shoulder rather than at her face. "You were right. Justin and I do have a lot in common."

He hadn't told anyone before, that he fancied boys, though he thought his mother might have known. And he hoped that her willingness to help him, despite that and his decision not to serve the Dark Lord, meant that she felt at least a little proud of him.

Arms, soft and strong, wrapped around him briefly in a quick but firm hug. "She did," she said quietly.

He didn't bother to ask how she knew what he was thinking. "Thanks, Aunt Jen."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything; it's the property of JKR, Raincoast, RTD, Cowlip, Showtime, et al.
> 
> Warnings for this story: slash, of course, language, adult themes.
> 
> Additional notes, including spoilers, etc, can be found before the first chapter.
> 
> Originally posted: 16 May 09

Chapter Four

Draco found himself at the diner again the following weekend. Molly was at her father's, and Aunt Jennifer had previously scheduled something she called a girl's retreat with friends. It had been postponed a couple of times already, and Draco urged her not to cancel because of him, assuring her that he could manage on his own for two days.

Aunt Jennifer made sure he had the cell phone she'd given him and that he knew how to use it, making him promise to keep it with him, just in case. She'd programmed a series of numbers into it – her own, which made sense, but also all of Justin's, Craig's, and Debbie's.

Justin still hadn't returned his mother's calls, so he'd have no idea who his cousin Draco – or his cousin Daniel, which was the name he'd chosen to use – was, and Craig certainly hadn't been pleased at learning that Draco was know living with his ex-family, so he wasn't sure why she'd included them. If it were a dire emergency, he _might_ call Debbie, since she had at least heard of him and hadn't recoiled at the sight of him.

It was that thought and the realization that the only two friendly people he knew in this country were otherwise occupied that lured him to the Liberty Diner. After the others had left on Friday, he hadn't had quite enough time to work up the courage to leave the house. He'd rather enjoyed the time alone, actually, and, he was embarrassed to admit, he had enjoyed the opportunity to control the remote for the television ( _T.V._ , his inner Molly corrected). But after thirty hours of solitude, he was ready for company. Debbie might be a friendly face, but what interested him was the Diner itself. The wizarding world wasn't opposed to homosexuality, exactly, but given the traditional emphasis on blood and family, it couldn't be entirely welcoming, particularly not in the Malfoy circles, and he was intrigued.

He called for a taxi, since he wasn't quite confident enough to chance the bus – the idea of public transportation was horrifying – but when he handed over the fare, he decided it was one fear he'd have to get over quickly if he enjoyed himself on Liberty Avenue – that, or he'd have to learn to drive as Aunt Jennifer had threatened.

Draco looked at the tacky establishment – the lights and shadows of the night only made it worse – then squared his shoulders and entered. He found an empty booth near the door and sat gingerly, trying to watch the other patrons without being obvious about it.

He hadn't been there more than a couple of minutes before Debbie entered from a door at the back. She'd paired a leopard print with a block-printed scarf and a yellow flower in her hair; unsurprisingly, her voice was as loud as her outfit as she exchanged remarks with a couple of patrons as she passed them on her way to the door. Draco was caught off guard, however, when she stopped next to his table. "What are you doing here?" Her tone was not belligerent, exactly, but something unreadable and a bit challenging.

"Hoping to get something to eat?" He threw in a quick grin, the one that usually convinced females to give him his way.

She snapped her gum and gave him a measuring look. "I don't think you'll find what you're hungry for on our menu."

Draco assumed the innuendo was unintentional and wasn't sure how to reply without drawing attention to it. She seemed to take his silence as agreement.

"Come on. My shift's finished, and you're not going to find what you're looking for here."

She didn't give him a chance to respond to that either, practically hauling him out of the booth and out of the diner.

"Where are we going?" The Malfoy in him was nervous at the thought of entering any room with 'this sort' of woman.

"You wanna know? You're gonna have to come with me to find out." Her tone was challenging, as though she'd known why he'd asked.

He knew he could explore on his own. The diner was filled with people who looked like they were going to or coming from somewhere interesting, including a table with three guys just a bit older than he himself not far from where he'd been sitting. Even if Jennifer hadn't told him, however, it would have been obvious that she knew everyone; the number of people that Debbie had been hailed by as she walked through the diner proved that she was a valuable contact.

What most prompted his reply, though, was that he didn't want to hurt his Aunt Jennifer or this strange, gaudy woman. Vanquishing the Ghost of Lucius Malfoy, at least temporarily, he extended his arm gallantly. "Far be it for me to deny a Lady an escort," he said, careful not to allow a hint of sarcasm creep into his tone.

She barked a laugh but took his arm. "You'll do just fine, Moonlight."

"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't introduce myself. I'm D-aniel. Jennifer Taylor's nephew. She pointed me out the other day?"

"I know who you are."

* * *

A block or so from the diner, Debbie hailed an approaching man in a blue shirt, whom she introduced as her brother Vic. She introduced Draco as 'Moonlight' and continued a stream of chatter that made it impossible for Draco to interject and correct her.

Her monologue – which lasted, uninterrupted, for the duration of their walk – made it clear that none of Debbie's innuendo was unintentional. That was disconcerting. He'd never met anyone as earthy, loud, or unapologetically brash as Debbie Novotny. Before long they arrived at a place called Woody's, where Debbie waved him up the steps. It was a pub – a bar, he corrected himself – not too dissimilar to the Three Broomsticks on the few occasions when Draco had been there outside of term time. It was also incredibly busy. He started to follow Debbie as she headed to a table, but she sent him off. "Sitting with us, you'll attract guys looking for a Mama's boy, and I don't think that's your type."

Having resigned himself to spending his evening making polite conversation with his aunt's friend, he gave her a rueful sort of grin. He was still a bit uncomfortable with the bold innuendo from a woman of her age but strangely looking forward to the time when he wouldn't be.

Wandering up to the bar, he was immediately hit on by a couple of guys, neither of whom was worth his time. He ordered a soda, since he was underage and didn't look old enough to be served alcohol. He'd been disgruntled to learn that not only did Muggles not come of age at seventeen, but they had ascribed random ages for various activities to be legal. He assumed that even Muggles had fake IDs, however, and he would have to look into getting one in the future. Tonight, he was only mildly disappointed since losing control in an unfamiliar environment would be more dangerous than he was willing to risk at the moment. The room revealed a few prospects, and he watched them for a while, getting a feel for how things were done outside boarding school and fending off offers that were just as practiced and just as execrable as the ones he'd had back home.

He was at the bar, ordering another drink when a firm, lean body pressed against his back, hands sliding around to settle on his hips. "You said you were heading straight home. You should be punished for telling lies like that," an incredibly sexy voice whispered in his ear, before lips began nibbling on it.

Draco pressed his hips back slightly and stifled a groan. "It's not that I don't appreciate the sentiment—" because he really, _really_ did "—but I think you've confused me with someone else." The accent must have given him away; the body behind him began to pull back even before he'd finished speaking, leaving him enough room to turn around.

When he did, Draco nearly groaned again.

He was gorgeous, with dark, tousled hair, eyes that were slightly too hazel to be considered green. His body was built for sex, and he had the look of a man who knew how to use it. Unfortunately – and given his luck lately, unsurprisingly – he _knew_ who this was. "Brian Kinney?"

The older man recovered quickly and was willing to play, though questions continued to shadow his eyes. "I see my reputation has traveled farther than I'd realized," he replied, confirming Draco's guess with a grin.

"I've met a couple of fans." When it came to Craig and, to a lesser extent, Molly, the words would have been sarcastic, but Aunt Jennifer had expressed admiration more than once for what Brian was doing for her son, especially given how the senior Taylors had treated him. If her admiration was tinged with jealousy, Draco certainly wasn't going to mention it, not to Jennifer nor to Brian. Debbie had also mentioned him on the way to the bar, in the context of her son's best friend, with equally mixed emotions. Over Brian's shoulder, Draco caught a glimpse of her watching intently with an expression of worry. That was enough to remind him of what he could be risking if he were to continue this game, and he offered his hand to Brian for a friendly shake rather than a flirty one.

"I'm Daniel." He waited until Brian had taken his hand before adding, "Taylor." He felt the flinch, faint as it was, though there was no visible sign of it. "Aunt Jen's mentioned you."

 _I'm sure she has_. The expression crossing Brian's face was as obvious as if he'd spoken the words aloud, and Draco realized two things: Brian Kinney hadn't the slightest idea how grateful Jennifer was, and it was astounding that he was able to maintain his reputation as a heartless arse if he couldn't hide emotions better than that.

"No one's mentioned you." Brian sounded piqued, and Draco was hard-pressed to hide a smile.

"He doesn't know I'm here. He hasn't returned his mother's calls."

* * *

Across the room, Michael Novotny finally noticed his best friend.

"Holy shit."

"What?" Ted looked up from the shot he was setting up on the pool table.

"Brian's found another one."

Rolling his eyes, Ted returned his attention to the game. "When it happens daily for the better part of fifteen years, Michael, it's no longer news."

"No, look." The younger man gestured with his pool cue. "He's got a clone of the Boy Wonder."

"Holy shit."

"What?" Emmett, returning from the bathroom, scanned the room to see what had them so shocked. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Your mother is entitled to a life, Sweetie. Sooner or later you're going to have to let her grow up."

"My mother's here?" Michael searched the room frantically and emitted a noise of pain when he finally found her. While he headed for Debbie and Vic's table, Ted pointed out Brian's latest conquest to Emmett.

"Huh. I know you should stock up when you find the perfect accessory, but I hadn't realized that also applied to twinks."

* * *

With more subtlety than Debbie had shown earlier that evening, Brian maneuvered Draco away from the bar to corner where they could speak uninterrupted.

"So you're Justin's cousin."

Technically, it was a statement, but Draco heard the questions that would follow and braced himself for the interrogation. Draco Malfoy would have told the Muggle exactly what he could do with himself and his questions, but Daniel Taylor – as much as it galled him to admit it – was dependent on the Taylor family, Jennifer's branch of it at least, and in their own ways, Jennifer, Molly, and even Craig had made it very clear how important Brian Kinney was in their lives, for better or worse.

"What are you doing with Jennifer if you're Craig's nephew? I would have thought that would have been verboten."

"I'm not Craig's nephew, I'm Jennifer's," he replied, answering the question that was asked but not offering additional information. It could be considered antagonistic, but he preferred to think of it as Slytherin, and he was astute enough to recognize someone who belonged to his house, even if the man in question were a Muggle.

"I know the Country Club set doesn't cotton to that sort of thing," Brian drawled before sharpening his tone to match his stare. "If you're his mother's nephew, why do you have his father's name?"

Draco could have used 'Black' as Jennifer had; it was his birthright as much as 'Malfoy' was. She'd kept her married name after the divorce, however, so he'd have been the only one, and he'd decided that if he was going to have a pretend family, he was damned well allowed to pretend to belong to it. That it annoyed Craig Taylor to the point that he'd consulted lawyers was a bonus.

"Well, I could have kept the one I was born with, but that would rather defeat the point of running away from home," Draco replied, trying to keep his answers light but knowing he'd been less than successful.

Brian caught the bitterness, his eyes zeroing in on Draco's. "Serious?"

Unbidden, Draco's mind flashed a series of images, scenes in which Draco was trapped in the future his father had planned for him, and he worked to suppress a shudder. "Yes," was all he said.

Brian stared at him for another long moment before nodding. He tapped the neck of his beer bottle to the rim of Draco's glass before raising it in a gesture that could have been mocking but felt congratulatory. "Fuck 'em," he said and drained his beer.

Draco picked up his glass with a faint smile. _Fuck 'em_ , he repeated silently, wishing that letting go of Voldemort and his father really was that easy, and drank.

The rest of the interrogation was relatively painless.

* * *

Justin was watching television when Brian returned to the loft.

"How's your mother?"

Justin surfed through four channels before answering. "Fine." The silence stretched for several moments before he caved and asked, "Why?"

"You're usually on the phone with her regularly." _Or you used to be_ , they both amended mentally. "I haven't heard you lately. I wondered if there was something wrong, if she was out of town..."

"No. We're both just busy."

"Uh-huh." The sound was full of disbelief, but Brian just stared at him for several moments before turning toward the bedroom. Just as Justin began to relax, thinking he might actually leave it at that, Brian paused on the stairs. "Don't you think you've punished her enough? Considering you won?" Brian watched Justin's finger hovering over the volume button, but he chose not to risk it, instead surfing violently past several more channels.

"You can't shut her out forever, Justin. She cares about you."

* * *

 _"I did it."_

Justin was almost grateful for the lingering nervousness that he felt as he continued, alone, down Liberty Avenue. Without it, he might have danced or burst into song, which was a bit too enthusiastic a reaction to walking down the street, no matter how long it had been or how significant it was.

And it was significant. _One of his top three most significant walks on Liberty Avenue_ , Justin snorted mentally, _and that's not a list most people have_.

In at least one very important way, this was at the very top of the list: unlike the first night, when he'd met Brian, or the horrible day after he'd been released from the hospital and he'd come looking for Brian, this time Brian was there, watching and waiting. For him.

Feeling triumphant, Justin debated what to do next. Brian would have to go to the apartment to change before the charity dinner, and if Justin were there, he'd use him as excuse not to go, or, more likely, deliver not only the promised blow job but a marathon fuck that wouldn't end well after the event was over. The Center was an important and valuable resource, but even Justin had to admit it was run by assholes. Given attitude of the committee chairs, Brian would happily take – or create – an excuse not to accept the Center's award. _Talk about_ not _being gracious in victory_.

Thinking about what Brian had said the day before, Justin realized how unfair he'd been to berate Brian for how he was treating Michael given how awfully shaky his moral high ground was. He was being irrational and petty in his treatment of his own mother, he knew that, and he was lucky that Brian hadn't called him on his hypocrisy.

Being Sunday afternoon, the bus wasn't crowded, so Justin had a seat to himself in addition to plenty of time to wonder what his mother's reaction would be to him suddenly showing up on her doorstep. He decided against calling to let her know he was coming, in case he changed his mind, which he nearly did, several times. He didn't, though, so he found himself there, staring at the door for several moments, wondering if he should just walk in. It seemed strange, the idea of knocking. His mom and sister lived there; it was supposed to be his home. Supposed to be but wasn't, and not just because it wasn't the house he'd grown up in. He didn't belong in any version of the Taylor household anymore. Knocking, accepting that, would be best for him.

His mom answered the door. "Justin!"

She was so surprised and so obviously happy to see him that he felt guilty for having avoided her. She moved to hug him, but stopped herself. Seeing that, Justin was overwhelmed by waves of emotion: guilt, again, gratitude, ... love. He decided that if he could tease Brian about blowing him on Liberty Avenue in broad daylight, he could hug his mom. He stepped into her embrace, her arms wrapping around him tightly enough that he could feel her suppressed sob.

He was beginning to feel concerned that there would be a repeat of the party they'd had for Micheal before he moved to Oregon, when Deb couldn't release her hold on her son, but she let go, reluctantly, before he needed to say anything. He noticed her eyes were glassy as she pulled him into the house, but his apology was forgotten when she spoke.

"Come on in, Honey. There's someone you should meet."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything; it's the property of JKR, Raincoast, RTD, Cowlip, Showtime, et al.
> 
> Warnings for this story: slash, of course, adult themes, language (and Brian's a POV character, so more than usual)
> 
> Additional notes, including spoilers, etc, can be found before the first chapter.
> 
> One of my goals in this chapter was to take advantage of the opportunity to get Jennifer and Justin's relationship from episode 2.2 (when things are very tense) to 2.4 (where things are much better between them), since canon didn't really address it.
> 
> Originally posted: 11 Dec 09

Chapter Five

"—and he's living in my room!"

Brian sighed, rubbing his temples. He'd had far too much Captain Astro and not nearly enough Jim Beam for this conversation. "Are you using it?"

"Brian!"

"Seriously. If I'd kicked you out yesterday, where would you have gone?"

He watched as Justin thought about being Justin and disputing Brian's ability to do that, but in the face of Brian's pointed look, he answered, reluctantly, "Debbie's."

"Then what's the problem?"

"He's stealing my life!"

Brian laughed. " _Single White Fag_ 's a bit dramatic, don't you think? If you aren't living it, it's not yours, and he can't be stealing it. And even if he were, he'd be doing you a favour. Unless you've been lying this whole time."

Justin deflated a bit, shaking his head.

"So what the hell does it matter?" Brian moved into Justin's personal space before the kid could resume his rant. "Now," he said decisively, "I am expecting phone calls or, more likely, visits from two disgruntled lesbians and one indignant Italian matriarch. When they try to reach me, I'd like to be unavailable. Any ideas?"

* * *

The phone was ringing when Jennifer got home, and it took two rings before she realized that no one else was there to answer it.

She dropped her parcels unceremoniously on the table and caught it just before the answering machine kicked in.

"Hello, Jennifer Taylor speaking," she said absently, chasing the note that her bags had displaced. Picking it up, she read that Daniel and Molly were at the park, and with a glance at the time, she mentally began adapting her dinner plans accordingly.

"Hi, Jennifer, it's Lindsay Peterson." That was unusual, enough so that Jennifer's attention was dragged back to the call.

"Hello, how are you?" she asked politely, wondering what had prompted the call from a woman she barely knew. The other woman sounded nervous, Jennifer realized, and she immediately feared something had happened to Justin.

"I'm well, thank you. I-I heard you might be looking for someone to tutor your nephew. I'd love more information. If you haven't found anyone yet."

Jennifer sat, stunned.

"Of course, you can absolutely say no," Lindsay added awkwardly, as the silence stretched.

"Oh! No, sorry— I was just surprised, that's all. I told Debbie I was looking less than half an hour ago. She didn't tell me she had someone in mind, so I wasn't expecting a call."

Lindsay laughed. "It would have been Justin, actually; Brian mentioned it when he picked up Gus."

Jennifer made a noncommittal noise in response. The subject of Daniel's schooling and their decision to look for a tutor hadn't been discussed during Justin's visit to the house. But it _had_ come up in Brian's interrogation of her nephew at Woody's.

And even without knowing about their particular requirements, Brian may have come up with the perfect solution.

Given Daniel's... unusual background, they needed to find someone discrete, loyal, and preferably someone she knew. That left very few options, but it would be difficult to explain the obscure knowledge and glaring gaps in Daniel's education.

Lindsay Peterson might just be ideal. She was on a leave of absence from her job as a college professor, giving her time and teaching experience. Justin admired her greatly. As the mother of Brian's son, there was the potential for conflict, though Justin had told her stories in which she and her partner Melanie had stood up for Justin when he and Brian were having difficulties. And even if Justin and Brian were to end their relationship, Jennifer knew Justin would always be part of the Liberty Avenue community.

For that matter, given her involvement with PFLAG and her budding friendship with Debbie Novotny, so would Jennifer.

She began explaining their requirements.

* * *

Brian allowed Justin to sulk for a couple of days, but early Thursday morning, he dragged him out of the loft and into the jeep. Since Brian had a crosstown meeting anyway, he figured he could drop Justin off at his mother's so he could deal with his family shit.

Justin chose to sulk silently for the duration of the drive, for which Brian was exceedingly grateful.

When they go to the house, they found the front door open and Jennifer in the driveway. Brian pulled up, and Jennifer walked over to meet them.

"Well, this is a surprise. What brings you by?" She sounded as nervous as she did pleased.

Justin didn't deign to answer, so Brian explained. He even used the phrase "to talk," for fuck's sake.

That coming by hadn't been Justin's idea and his lack of enthusiasm were obvious, and her smile dimmed slightly. "We're heading out to Molly's riding lesson; you should join us," she nonetheless invited warmly.

Before it became obvious that Justin wasn't going to reply, Molly called to her mother from the front door. Looking up, Brian noticed Justin's nemesis standing near the jeep. He was staring at them intently, obviously wary of Justin and protective of his aunt.

Jennifer turned to answer Molly, and Justin turned on the puppy eyes, trying to convince Brian to let him skip the bonding session and tag along. Even if he could think of a bribe with a chance of succeeding, however, he wouldn't be able to articulate it in front of his mother.

It didn't take long for Justin to realize that it was a losing battle.

With a dramatic sigh, Justin got out of the jeep, closing the door with as much force as he thought he could get away with using.

Brian arched an eyebrow but otherwise let it slide. "Play nice with the other kids," he said, putting the jeep into reverse. Checking for traffic provided him an opportunity to observe Justin pointedly moving silently past his sister and his cousin to claim the passenger seat.

Shaking his head in exasperated amusement, Brian drove off.

* * *

The ride to the Academy was awkward, to say the least. Justin was doing his best to pretend that Draco didn't exist, and he was obvious enough about it that Molly soon noticed. She took Draco's part, but while he was grateful for her support, he didn't want to be responsible for shattering what was left of the family. A hand on her arm and a slight shake of his head quieted her before her mother needed to intervene; unfortunately, she settled into a noticable sulk, and Justin's resentment magnified at Draco's influence over his sister.

The first time Draco had accompanied Jennifer and Molly to the Academy, the owner had given Draco the opportunity to ride as well, and now he had standing permission to exercise the more tempermental horses, the ones who weren't being ridden by the students, once class had begun.

He usually enjoyed watching Molly's class as they prepared, especially his cousin, who was as talented as she was excited. Knowing that Jennifer had been raised for the first decade of her life, at least, at Malfoy Manor which boasted an exceptional stable, it was surprising only that Molly hadn't begun riding lessons before this summer.

This morning, however, Draco was standing awkwardly next to Jennifer and Justin, wishing that the instructor would hurry and begin. Jennifer, he assumed, was waiting for privacy, which they wouldn't have while he was loitering nearby, before she broached the subject of Draco and his sudden appearance. Justin, on the other hand, was just being difficult.

After the fifth conversational gambit that Justin shut down with one word answers or ignored altogether, Jennifer excused herself. Ostensibly she left to get her sweater from the car, but the heat and her glassy eyes made that unlikely. Knowing it wouldn't take long for her to pull herself together, Draco spoke quietly.

"Listen, you self-absorbed git. My father didn't slap me or beat up my boyfriend; he all but tried to sell me into slavery. My mother did the only thing she could to get me out; she sent me here. It may have cost her her life, and I have no way to find out without broadcasting where I am and nullifying her sacrifice." Justin gaped at him when he started speaking and looked like he was close to interrupting, but Draco continued before he could say anything.

"Your mother loves you, is proud of you, and is trying in every way she can to ensure you have the best life possible. Maybe you could, for just one minute, get over yourself and remember that she's your _mother_. She's always going to think of you as a child, _her_ child, but she sent you to Brian anyway because that's the only thing she could think of that might help. She's gone more than halfway. Maybe you could give her a break. Or do you want to lose _both_ your parents?"

Before Justin had a chance to respond, he was out of earshot, heading to the stable.

* * *

It didn't take long for the tension of memories that had been raised to be lost in his joy of riding. It was one of the things he missed most when he was at school and had expected to miss here.

When he thought he would be able to face the prat without hitting him upside the head, he returned to the paddock, he saw Justin standing next to his mother. Jennifer was watching Molly and Justin was sketching, but they were speaking quietly to each other at the same time. They both looked relaxed, even happy.

Jennifer waved when she saw him, and Draco returned it before heading back to the stable, where he smugly congratulated himself.

Justin found him there, grooming the horse he'd been riding. Draco waited as his cousin watched silently for several moments before speaking.

Justin spoke first. "I always wanted to learn to ride."

Draco put years of his mother's training to use and replied, politely, "Why didn't you?" Jennifer had seemed pleased by Molly's interest in learning.

"My dad always said that with the amount of money he shelled out for his country club membership, we should take advantage of their facilities, so I learned golf and tennis instead. I didn't _want_ to learn golf or tennis, so I dropped the lessons as soon as I was able. My mom just told me that my dad's afraid of horses."

"It's not too late."

Justin laughed. "I'd look a bit silly out there with a bunch of nine-year-olds, don't you think?"

Draco shrugged in acknowledgment. He probably wouldn't have felt comfortable in the group either. "I'm sure there are adult classes." He nearly left it there, remembering the last time he'd offered to help a potential friend and how badly that had blown up in his face, but he thought about how tense Jennifer had been about the estrangement, how happy she had seemed just a few moments ago. If _she_ were willing to forgive the brat, Draco had no right to hold onto the grudge when he hadn't been wronged. "Or I can teach you, if you want."

Justin cocked his head and stared at Draco before replying, "My schedule is pretty tight, especially with school starting soon, so scheduling another set of lessons is probably a bad idea."

Draco tried not to be too disappointed: he hadn't realized until that moment how much he'd hoped for a chance at a friend his own age.

"But private tutoring might be okay," Justin continued. "Can I get back to you when I know how busy I'll be with school?"

"Sure." Turning back to the horse, Draco smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of _Familiarization of Liberty_. As they are completed, additional scenes will be posted here; they'll be vignettes really, of other moments that occur before the story resumes in _Sins of the Father_. They will not be essential to your enjoyment/understanding of the sequel (they'll be of the DVD extras variety), so don't feel you need to wait for them. If you have something in particular you'd like to see, please review or message me, and I'll see what I can do.
> 
>  _Sins of the Father_ , will take place after Season Five of _QaF_ (so, full series spoilers) and well after the books (and I don't know yet how canon-compliant it will be). Forewarned is fore-armed.


End file.
